Backward Glance

Sometimes you look back and think that you'd like to slap your younger self into next Wednesday. This happens to me a lot when I think about my teen years.

In the depths of my mom's cedar chest was a muff made of leopard skin. From time to time she would bring it out and get a little misty eyed about her life before the six of us came along. When I was little, I would rub it against my cheek and inhale the scent of cedar. Then I hit my unfortunate teens, and I got upset because the muff was made of real fur. In those days, I was an obnoxious know-it-all, and I cried bitter tears for the long-deceased animal who had given its life so my mom could keep her hands warm. Until that point, mom had said she wanted me to have the muff someday. After my little snit, she rescinded her offer.

I've regretted it ever since. Not because I've changed my mind and have a sudden hankering for fur. But because I wasn't listening to her. Because, right then, I didn't see the woman behind the mom.

This past week, as Mother's Day approached, I thought about her a lot. She passed away two years ago, but she's never far away.

Like most moms of her generation, she was careful to keep herself tucked away, to put her husband and kids first.

We used to play hide-and-seek, and I liked to sit in my parents' closet. Mom had a few pairs of shoes she seldom wore. One pair was black suede with wedge heels and a sling back, and they were divine. She would never let us play dress-up with them, they were off-limits.

With six children and a tight budget, there was no money for dressy clothes. Mom wore sensible dresses and costume jewelry. She didn't seem interested in fashion. Then she learned to sew, and made clothes for my sisters and me. She was proud of her creations. One hit was in the 1970's, when she found a pattern for those hip-hugging pants with the huge bell-bottoms, which were in vogue at the time. She made several pairs, and I wore them out.

What I learned later (when I finally started to listen) was that my mom had an interesting life before we arrived. She worked at Western Union, took trips on the train with girlfriends, and had a knock-out wardrobe. That's where the muff came in. She bought it and a coat with matching collar, then had her picture professionally taken.

I wonder, if my mom had grown up when I did instead of when she did, if she still would have had a passel of kids and stayed home with them. Or if she would have studied to be an artist. Or landscaper. Or a designer. It was like she had all these packets of seeds in a drawer, and she'd pull a few out and plant them every now and then. But they never matured because she didn't have the time to nourish and care for them, because she was doing that for us instead.

I hope that, wherever Mom is and whatever she's up to, that it includes all of the things she didn't get around to in this life.

Happy Mother's Day, Mom!